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The Thinker Challenge	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2251 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is based solely on the television show Sherlock that airs on BBC1, written by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I borrow their universe to play in and do not claim any ownership or intend to make any money off of this fun hobby of m

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter 18: Introverted Prostitutes & Other Games
“Be careful with the needles.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Just have someone there to make sure you keep breathing. Hire a prostitute – you can pay them for the night and as a bonus, you can have sex with them.”
“But aren’t they horribly dull?”
Sio reaches for he purse and pulls out a card. She hands it to him, “Ask for Elena. She’s introverted and happy to not make conversation.”
He takes the card slowly, turning it around in his hand. The last time she had handed him a card, it had her name on it.
“I don’t want you to go,” Sherlock says abruptly, not looking at her.
“Neither do I,” She admits.
“How many did you take?” he asks, referring to her anti-anxiety meds.
“Two.”
“That’s more than usual. Why?”
“It’s going to be a long day.”
“Oh.”
She shifts nervously, aware of the signs she is giving and frustrated that she can’t stop herself.
She closes her eyes briefly and then says, “I have to go.”
“Do you?”
“Sherlock, I love…”
He cuts her off, saying sharply, “What possible point is there in saying that now?”
“Maybe there’s never a point to saying it.”
“Is it time to go yet?” He makes a show of looking at his watch.
“I have to do this for my brother.”
“For yourself. Be honest. You just want to have your very own intellectual playmate.”
“He’s trapped. I can’t leave him like that.”
“Maybe he wants to be left. Maybe he’s happy alone inside his mind, without all the bloody complications of real life. Consider that you may be selfishly pulling him out of heaven.”
“I have to find out.”
“You love him more than me,” he says like a petulant child.
“That’s how families work.”
“Not mine.”
“That’s rubbish and you know it. You talk big about hating your brother, but you wouldn’t leave him to whither and die. There are bigger things.”
“So go then.”
“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Has it occurred to you that I may be making it easier?”
“People like us don’t dream of a happily ever after. We had our time and now it’s done. There’s no point in being bitter about it.”
“Who said I was bitter? I’ve helped you, haven’t I? You wouldn’t be able to get out of the country if it weren’t for me. It’d better be worth the effort.”
“Of course I owe you a great deal,” she responds, humbled.
“I just hope you are smart enough to solve it,” he says cruelly.
She winces at this. Then takes a breath before responding, “I’ll get the science. I’m much more worried about everything else.”
“The cover?” He asks.
She nods. “I’ve done it before once, did I tell you? Even faked a relationship just like you, only you did it for a case and I did it just to see if I could. It was exhausting. I found it rather chilling to have someone tell you they love you when you feel nothing for them at all.”
She suddenly feels rather sick. It seems an eternity before he responds.
“I wouldn’t know,” he says finally.
“You’ll be fine. The minute you get a good case, you’ll forget all about me,” she says, keeping her composure.
“Any case, really. Perhaps I am bitter that I have to wait that long,” he says with a sneer. But after a brief pause, he then asks, “Will you come back?”
“I don’t see how that would be possible, considering,” she answers.
“Anything is possible,” he counters.
*
The next day.
“I am not sure, brother, that your latest is a forgivable offense,” Sherlock says with an anger less tempered by indifference than usual.
“What now?” Mycroft sighs.
“Sio’s gone,” Sherlock responds.
“What? That’s impossible,” he says with disbelief.
“Hardly. I helped, of course. You should really stop trying to control people.”
“That’s my job,” Mycroft insists, obvious annoyance in his voice.
“You forced our hand.”
“’Our hand. Isn’t that cozy?” Mycroft snarks as he reaches for his phone.
“By all means, let the games begin,” Sherlock says, bitterly.
Mycroft gives some whispered orders over the phone and then looks back up at his brother.
“I suppose I underestimated her devotion to her brother. Perhaps she has a heart after all.”
“Indeed,” Sherlock says with just enough softness to pique his brother’s imagination.
“You’re not going to tell me you are in love with her or any such nonsense. Grow up, Sherlock. Now I am quite glad it worked out this way – people like you shouldn’t trifle with sentimentality; it doesn’t suit.”
“She loved me, Mycroft.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’d be less surprised if you’d told me Mrs. Hudson was studying for a degree in advanced mathematics.” After a moment, he adds rather abruptly, “She told you this?”
Sherlock nods. Off of Mycroft’s look, he proactively counters, “She’s a terrible liar. Except by omission.”
Mycroft places his hand on his desk, then after a moment, responds “It’s not as though you could have had a normal life with her. She is not like women are supposed to be. I have simply saved you the frustration….”
Sherlock interrupts, “You used your personal mobile to make the call just now. It’s not secure. There are sweat marks on your desk. You said ‘people like you’, as if we are different. It’s not about world security. Or even national best interest. It’s about her.”
“Oh, here we go.” Mycroft sighs, shaking his head.
“You never booked a professional. It was late and you had been drinking when you called that night to harangue me. I didn’t remark at the time because, well… You knew she was there. You wanted to meet her,” Sherlock deduces.
“Don’t sound so shocked. You are well aware that I have you under surveillance – someone has to keep you out of the drug dens. And yes, I like to keep tabs on the company you keep,” Mycroft responds, a bit too calmly.
“You’d talked about her before. Years ago. Yes, I remember now. Some eternal Christmas day with Mother and Dad; there was an article in the paper about her research and you made some comment about her making a good match.”
“In chess. I simply said that she would make a worthy opponent and how strange it was to say that about a woman,” Mycroft responds defensively.
“You wanted her for yourself. You’re jealous. Of me,” Sherlock deduces with some surprise.
“Please. I could have arranged to meet her any number of times had I wanted to. Or hadn’t you noticed my penchant for…”
“But not like that. She would have hated to be corralled in the usual way and you fancied her.”
“I will admit that I was, at one time now long past, intrigued by the possibility of …”
“…having a normal life,” Sherlock interrupts.
With an unusual show of emotion, Mycroft blusters, “Surely, brother, I am better equipped than…”
Sherlock holds his hand up to stop him finishing. “Enough. You’ve kicked the ball over the fence so now neither of us can play. Well done.”
“What a ridiculous metaphor. You know very well neither of us have ever kicked a ball.”
*
The End.
There is an Epilogue. Interested? Let me know.
Also, more smut chapters coming....
- 18
- 19
- 20
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The Thinker Challenge